La soie dorée
by felivargass2pasta
Summary: If he had to describe his lover's hair in one word it would be silk. A golden, shiny silk that fell gracefully over his shoulders whenever he moved, talked or simply breathed. He just couldn't get enough of its beauty. FrUK.
1. Golden Silk

**La soie dorée**

**Chapter One**

...

If he had to describe his lover's hair in one word it would be silk. A golden, shiny silk that fell gracefully over his shoulders whenever he moved, talked or simply breathed. Sometimes Arthur wondered if that obsession with the Frenchman's hair was kind of sick, maybe even creepy, but he just couldn't help himself when he saw those golden curls looking so smooth and inviting to the touch.

That was one of those awkward moments when he felt uncomfortably self-conscious as he lay on Francis' king-size bed with one of Jane Austen's books open over his lap while discretely spying the other. They had made reservations in a very nice restaurant that night... which meant that he would have to distract himself while Francis spent hours in front of the bloody mirror. Not that he was complaining, the Frenchman always looked stunning after those 'beauty sessions' - as Francis liked to call it - and he could spend his time reading a good book or drinking some tea while waiting.

He watched as the hairbrush slid through those soft golden strands, so slowly... He couldn't even bring himself to be angry as he watched that mesmerizing scene.

"You know, Angleterre... you can do more than just stare..."

Arthur blinked a few times, knowing that his face was turning into a shameful shade of red when he saw those piercing blue eyes staring at him through the reflection on the mirror. He cursed silently and lifted the book to cover his face and hide his embarrassment.

"I wasn't staring at you. Don't be so cocky, frog..."

"Oui... then why is your book upside down?~" Francis asked, a smug grin playing on his lips when he watched the Briton through his reflection.

Arthur widened his eyes, wanting to bang his head against the wall when he noticed his mistake. "I-It was on purpose," he said in a rush and quickly turned the book in the proper position.

Francis just chuckled and stared at his own reflection, brushing his hair carefully when a sudden idea made the corner of his lips quirk up discreetly.

"Could you help brushing my hair, mon cher...?"

The Briton lowered his book slightly, cursing silently when he noticed the tiny smirk on the corner of Francis' mouth. That expression always meant that the Frenchman probably had some evil and wicked plan up his sleeve. He sighed and closed the book, placing it over the nightstand as he stood up and walked toward his lover.

"Happy now...?" Arthur mumbled grumpily when he snatched the hairbrush from the other's hand and stared at him through the mirror.

"Oui~" Francis whispered, smiling slyly before leaning both elbows over the comber and resting his chin over his hands.

Francis watched the other's movements intently and closed his eyes when the Briton touched him, sending a pleasurable shiver down his spine. Whenever he had the chance he would ask Arthur to do that kind of thing, not only the thrill of seeing Arthur obliging to his wishes was worth it but the pleasure of seeing him so flushed was also delicious enough.

Arthur sighed and started sliding the hairbrush through the soft blond locks, wondering if it would be alright to just run his fingers through that sea of golden silk. He chewed on his bottom lip and dropped the hairbrush over the comber discretely, touching the top of Francis' head hesitantly and letting his fingers slide between his perfectly curly hair.

The Frenchman let out a soft purr of appreciation when Arthur's fingers started sliding though his hair, combing it without difficulty. He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side, drumming his fingers against his own cheeks slowly.

Arthur bit on his bottom lip when he realized that Francis had his eyes closed and leaned forward discreetly, holding the golden strands and bringing them closer to his nose to sniff the charming scent of roses that always followed Francis wherever he went. He chuckled softly when he remembered about the first day he had touched Francis' hair like that, when he still was a young child and wanted to know if it was as soft as it looked. How silly of him... it felt as if he had been cursed since the day his fingertips had brushed against that sea of gold, he just couldn't get enough of its beauty.

"What's so funny, Angleterre...?" Francis opened his eyes and looked up with a mix of confusion and curiosity, wondering what had made Arthur look so amused.

"It's nothing..." Arthur said, shaking his head nonchalantly in the hope that Francis would stop making questions.

"Nothing...?" Francis asked with a raised eyebrow, finding it odd to be seeing Arthur laughing without a really good reason.

Arthur just rolled his eyes and nodded, trying to change the subject before he ended embarrassing himself saying something he didn't want to.

The Frenchman chuckled and reached for the flower pot over the comber, picking one of the red roses that were inside it. He had always loved roses... specially the red ones. They were so enchanting and mysterious... but even with their beauty and delicacy there were always the thorns that could hurt and pierce the skin if the rose was threatened. In a way, the roses reminded him of Arthur, and maybe... just maybe... that was the motive he had always loved them so much.

"You're always denying your feelings..." Francis chuckled and twirled the rose between his fingers, staring at its crimson petals before turning his head to gaze at the Briton.

"I'm not..." Arthur muttered grumpily, stopping to move the hairbrush for a few seconds when he was caught in thoughts after hearing Francis' words.

He looked up at the other's blue eyes and then glanced at the red flower on his hand, recognizing it to be one of the roses he had plucked from the garden earlier that morning.

"This brings a lot of memories, don't you think?" Francis muttered, lifting the rose to outline Arthur's lips with the smooth petals.

"Y-Yes..."

...

_The waves crashed against the rocks violently, splashing droplets of water on the soil under their feet. The wind blew softly between the two men standing near the cliff, and Arthur couldn't help but admire in silence how that golden hair swayed softly, dancing in the rhythm of the sea breeze._

_"What are you doing here?" the Briton asked coldly, holding his tough facade as he stared at the blue-eyed man in front of him._

_"That's not the best way to welcome an old friend, Angleterre..." _

_The Frenchman chuckled softly and turned around to face the other, holding his hat in place when the wind threatened to blow it away. _

_"Don't call me that... we're at war." Arthur muttered, taking a few steps forward until he was standing in front of the Frenchman, who now had his back turned to the sea, "You know... I could just push you down the cliff for having invaded my land..."_

_Francis smiled and looked over his shoulder, watching as the high waves agitated the sea beneath them._

_"Then go ahead... I won't fight back..."_

_Arthur squinted his eyes when he heard that and closed his hands into fists, not really considering the option before averting his eyes to the side. "What do you want...?"_

_Francis smiled when he noticed that Arthur had calmed down a bit and stepped to the side, gazing at the sky as the orange rays seemed to touch the water when the sun started to set. "I'm sorry, mon cher... I had to see you before the battle started," he said, smiling sadly when he turned toward Arthur again. _

_"You're losing your time here..."_

_"Maybe... but I thought that it was worth a try..."_

_Francis stepped forward and picked the flower that was tied to his hat by satin laces. He held out the red rose for Arthur, who just stared at him with confusion._

_"This can be our last meeting if one of us suffer a serious blow," the Frenchman whispered quietly while staring right into the other's green eyes, "So... I came here to see you and... say a final goodbye in case we won't be seeing each other again..."_

_Arthur widened his eyes slightly when the words sunk into his brain, not even having imagined that the Frenchman was worried about that. He opened his mouth to talk but no words came as he didn't know what to say in response. It felt as if he had a lump on his throat._

_"Don't be ridiculous..." Arthur blurted out suddenly, sounding a lot harsher than he had intended. He clicked his tongue when he saw the confusion flashing on the other's blue eyes and scolded himself mentally for the sudden outburst. "I'm not saying goodbye..." _

_"Arthur...?"_

_"I don't have time for this, Francis... and you better go home and prepare for the war, the British won't hold back." Arthur said, pursing his lips as he turned around and adjusted the black hat on his head before starting to walk away. _

_He just couldn't accept that rose... picking it would mean accepting that miserable fate... and he didn't want to say farewell. Not yet. He knew that those thoughts would never have the chance to be spoken out loud, but even if his mind wanted to deny his feeling with all of his forces, his heart was a lot more stubborn... and for now he couldn't bear looking at the sadness on those blue eyes anymore._

_"You're really being serious now... I heard you joined Gilbert..."_

_"I told you, Francis... if you didn't stop I would seek for strong allies and end this war... I'm a man of word," Arthur stared harshly at the Frenchman from over his shoulder before pulling his red coat closer to body when he resumed walking down the stony path, "I won't give up. You can plan as many blockages as you want but I'll find a way... keep that in mind... I won't lose to you..."_

_Francis chuckled sadly and watched Arthur walking away, lowering his gaze to gaze at the red rose in his hand. Maybe he really had gone too far in seeking for the Briton in a time like that._

_"So pretty... what a waste..." he sighed, twirling the stem between his fingers as he brought the red petals closer to his nose to smell their perfume. _

_He walked till the end of the cliff and let the flower slip from his hand, watching as it fell on the water and disappeared into the blue immensity._

_..._

"Those were some stormy years..." Francis chuckled and placed the rose back into the flowerpot, moving a hand backwards to run his fingertips through the other's hair. "But you know... in the end you really won like you promised..."

"What...? The battle?" Arthur whispered, closing his eyes for a brief second when he felt the Frenchman's slender fingers running through his short blond hair.

"Non," Francis stood up and gazed at his lover intensely, letting his blue eyes burn into Arthur's emerald ones, "My heart..."

Arthur blinked in confusion and lifted his head when the Frenchman cupped his chin. Soon his eyes were admiring how those beautiful lips moved smoothly to whisper sweet nothings against his pale skin, watching in awe as the sentences rolled over that French tongue that seemed to be gifted by the gods with the most enchanting words. Words that had captivated his soul when he was still a young boy and that remained making his heart beat faster and melt into a puddle of love when that whispered and loving voice would reach his ears like molten sugar.

The Briton smiled and placed both hands over his lover's shoulders, gasping when he had to step backwards and the back of his knees hit the edge of their bed. He squeezed his eyes shut when his feet slipped and he fell on his back over the mattress, feeling the weight of Francis' body falling over him as the Frenchman fell on the bed too.

"F-Francis... we're late," Arthur whispered, glancing down when he felt a tug on his green tie before Francis' fingers started working quickly to undo the knot.

"Dinner can wait a bit..."

A warm smile made its way to the Frenchman's lips and he ran his fingertips over his lover's right wrist, bringing Arthur's hand closer to his mouth to press smooth lips against tender skin. He gazed at Arthur through half-lidded eyes and took in the sight of the soft blush that dusted over his once pale cheeks, feeling a twinge of joy when he realized that the other's smile was matching the brightness of his deep green eyes.

Arthur let out a quiet sigh and his eyelids fluttered closed for a brief second as he enjoyed the sensation of a pair of warm lips capturing his own. And he was lost again... lost into the little and private world they had created just for the two of them a long, long time ago. He knew that words weren't necessary anymore and let his body speak for itself. Now it was just the two of them... the whispered confessions and the sound of erratic breaths and accelerated heartbeats as their bodies moved in the same passionate dance.

...

* * *

**AN: Thanks to everyone for reading, I had this idea in mind for a while and wanted to write some fluff FrUk :3**

**Chapter two will be up soon ^^**


	2. Red Roses

_**Chapter Two **_

_**...**_

A soft hum was heard inside the bathroom when Francis stepped out of the shower stall with just a towel wrapped around his waist. He stepped closer to the sink and picked the hair dryer carefully, running a hand through his damp hair while staring at his reflection on the blurred mirror.

"That was such a nice restaurant... what a waste..."

"What? It's your own fault that we lost the reservation..." Arthur rolled his eyes, slipping on his black underwear before picking the white shirt that he had left hanging on the wall.

"Oui, oui... but I'm quite satisfied with our little change of plans..." he said, wiggling his perfectly trimmed eyebrows before rubbing his fingers over his beard.

"Why am I not surprised?" Arthur sighed, turning around when he started buttoning the shirt he had borrowed from the Frenchman's wardrobe. He couldn't deny that the cool fabric felt really good against his warm skin, which was still warm from the bath. Not that he was ever going to tell Francis that his clothes were gorgeous, the bloody frog would mock him for eternity.

Arthur shook his head and looked down to concentrate on his task, and he could swear that his cheeks were feeling a lot warmer when he was finally aware of the intense blue gaze fixed on his back, "What now?"

"You should borrow my shirts more often, mon cher..."

"Why? I just forgot to bring my sleepwear, frog... it's not like I enjoy wearing your clothes or anything," Arthur mumbled, raising an eyebrow when he heard Francis giggling, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, just thinking..." Francis pursed his lips to hold back a chuckle and turned around again to start brushing his hair.

Smirking deviously, Arthur walked closer to his lover and placed a hand over his back, feeling his skin still wet from the bath, "Oh, that's funny... you don't usually think too much." Oh... how he enjoyed messing with the Frenchman, that always succeeded in making his day a little brighter.

"That's mean, Angleterre!"

Francis puffed his cheeks in irritation and tightened his fingers around the hairbrush. He glared at the Briton with the corner of his blue eyes and pursed his lips in a cute pout, can't believing that Arthur always had a comeback to make him embarrassed.

Arthur smiled in amusement and finished drying his hair with a white fluffy towel, not even bothering in trying to tame the unruly blond strands anymore. "I'll go make some tea while you dry your hair..." he said, pressing a quick kiss on the Frenchman's lips before walking out of the bathroom.

"Just don't touch the pans! I don't want to call the fire department again! Last time was embarrassing enough!" Francis said with amusement, sticking his head into the corridor as he watched Arthur walking downstairs.

"I don't even want to touch the pans, wanker!"

"Sure..." Francis whispered to himself, chuckling as he stepped inside the bathroom again and started drying his hair carefully.

...~...*...~...

"Why can't I cook the sauce?" Arthur muttered grumpily as he chopped the carrots, stealing a quick glance toward the Frenchman, who was stirring the sauce inside a pan.

"You should feel happy that I let you stay in the kitchen, mon cher..." Francis smiled playfully and pinched the tip of Arthur's nose with his free hand, chuckling when the Briton slapped his fingers away without force.

"Like I'd care if you let me in or not..." Arthur snorted and turned around with the knife still in hand, furrowing his eyebrows when the Frenchman held both his hands up to show that he wanted peace.

"Don't be so mean, Angleterre..." Francis giggled and touched the tip of the knife carefully to lower it, hoping that Arthur wouldn't go mad and decide to slice his throat like he had always promised.

"And now I'm mean... who was the one saying that I would burn down the kitchen?"

"I was just saying the truth~" Francis slid a hand through his tied hair and turned his attention to the pan before the sauce could get burnt, "Don't you remember what happened last month?"

Arthur snorted and dropped the knife before walking toward Francis. He smirked and wrapped his arms around the other's waist, quickly leaning his chin on the Frenchman's right shoulder. "Are you saying that I'm a bad cook, love...?" He whispered in amusement when he noticed the faint blush covering the Frenchman's cheeks. Oh. Right on the spot. Holding the Frenchman like that would always render him defenseless.

"Well, I'd rather you making my tea."

"You know, I'm not your butler..."

"Hm... but I think you would look really hot dressed as a butler."

"Are you reading those stories from Japan again...?"

"Oui, he sent a few to me and Amérique... the story is really good," the Frenchman shrugged, pouring a bit of sauce over the back of his hand before bringing it closer to his lips to have a taste, "You should read them one day..."

"I'll think about it..." Arthur whispered, peeking over the Frenchman's shoulder to look at the pans when a delicious smell reached his nostrils, "Now finish the food because I'm hungry..."

"Oh, you're so bossy, young master..."

"Shut up..."

Francis chuckled and looked over his shoulder, filling a spoon with sauce before holding it near Arthur's mouth. "Can you tell me if I put enough salt...?" he asked, knowing that the food was already perfect but wanting to see Arthur's expression after tasting it.

Arthur stared at him and quickly wrapped his lips around the spoon to taste the sauce. He closed his eyes for a brief second and let the sauce roll over his tongue smoothly, humming when he recognized the delicate texture of milk and the slightly salty flavour of cheese. He hated to admit that but living under the same roof as Francis had made his preferences about food a lot more demanding... even if he still depended on the Frenchman to cook all the delicacies that had captivated his senses.

"How is it?"

"Good... I guess..."

"Just good...? Won't you say that my food is the best in the whole world?" Francis chirped animatedly, batting his eyelashes as he pressed the spoon against Arthur's cheek to dirty his skin with sauce.

"Only in your dreams, frog..."

"Oh... you know that I dream about you every night, mon amour..."

A mischievous smirk flickered on the Frenchman's lips when he turned around and ran his tongue over Arthur's left cheek to wipe the sauce. He peeked with the corner of his eyes to see the other's reaction, feeling his inner self cheering victoriously when the deep blush started spreading till the tip of Arthur's ears.

"S-stop... we've done it just a few minutes ago..." Arthur pushed against the other's chest lightly, gasping when the Frenchman cupped the back of his head and he was pushed against one of the counters.

"Are you still sore...?" Francis whispered, curling his fingers around his lover's hair to pull his head backwards. He grazed his teeth over a tender spot and started showering Arthur's neck with passionate kisses that would probably leave a few marks on his pale skin the other day. He could spend all night doing just that.

"I-I'm not sore, git..." Arthur chewed on his bottom lip, reaching backwards to grasp the edge of the counter when a wave of pleasure made his legs go weak.

"Just kidding," Francis chuckled against Arthur's cool skin and straightened up to be able to gaze into his eyes, "Don't be so upset..."

Arthur rolled his eyes and cupped the Frenchman's face, pulling him down to lock their lips together passionately, "Then kiss me properly, frog," he whispered against the Frenchman's swollen lips, running both hands through his golden hair.

Francis raised an eyebrow after hearing that, chuckling as he rested both hands over Arthur's waist and leaned forward to kiss him again. He sighed and started rubbing his thumbs over his lover's hipbones, opening one eye slowly when the sound of something boiling on the stove filled the kitchen.

"Merde...!"

Francis gasped in horror and nearly jumped over the stove to turn it off, letting out a relieved sigh when he realized that the sauce wasn't damaged. He would never forgive himself if he ruined that food.

"What's wrong...?" Arthur raised an eyebrow, fanning himself discretely when he realized that the kitchen seemed to be hotter than it should.

"The food is ready," Francis chuckled, leaning his forehead against Arthur's right shoulder while pulling him into a tight and warm hug.

"We should eat then... the smell is delicious," Arthur whispered as he leaned forward and hid his face against the other's head, nuzzling his nose against that silky and sweet-scented blond hair. How he loved that smell... it reminded him of the roses in his garden... the lovely, blooming red roses that had been colouring his life for years now.

* * *

**AN: O****riginally ****I was going to make this a oneshot**** but the idea for a second chapter popped up and I decided to give it a try, I hope you enjoyed it ^^**

**Thanks to everyone who read and the ones who favorited and left a review, it means a lot to me :D**


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